Guardian Force: Shadow Fox Division
by DiscipleofFuzzy
Summary: The Guardian Force is creating a new unit to combat the new and improved Backdraft. Once, if, they get commissioned, they will soon recieve their baptism of fire. After NCZ. 3/28/08: will hopefully revamp this story in the near future with much winsauce.
1. Prologue

Zoids: Guardian Force: Shadow Fox Division  
  
5 years after New Century Zero  
  
The sound of a Laser Vulcan gun going off. Eight more Di-Mantis fall to the ground, riddled with holes. Two more Laser Vulcan Guns sound. Fifteen more Sinkers are shredded. A Weasel Unit's distinctive Total Assault brings twenty-five more Guysacks down.  
Nine hundred more keep coming. Nine hundred more of each, I mean.  
The ground is already littered with the hulks of trashed Zoids. Hundreds. Some of them Zoids like Command Wolves, Gun Snipers, Di-Bison, and even a couple of Elephanders. And thousands of Di-Mantis, Rev Raptors, and Sinkers. Several hunks of metal that are barely recognizable as Cannon Tortoises lay beyond the sea of Backdraft Zoids.  
The remaining Zoids Battle Commission pilots turned soldiers begin to panic. None wish to stay any longer. Some turned and ran after the perimeter defenses fell. The only units that maintain some form of discipline are those from the Guardian Force.  
Though not many people today remember why the Guardian Force is so special, other than the fact that they keep the peace between the Republic and the Empire, and only the elite are usually recruited into it. Many other people think of it as the military equivalent of S.W.A.T.—Special Weapons and Tactics. And now, when the Backdraft has enough Zoids to overwhelm normal military defenses all over the continent, these weapons and tactics are desperately needed.  
When the revolution began, several ex-Backdraft employees—such as Stigma Stoller, Sanders, Dr. Leyon, and Pierce—joined the ZBC and true governments. From this, the Allied forces gained Stoller's and Sanders' knowledge of piloting the Elephander, Pierce's airborn Zoids knowledge, and Leyon's brilliance. Not to mention the plans for his pride and joy, the Shadow Fox. Units that can pilot the Foxes fairly well are still very rare, but can sometimes turn the tide of a battle.  
Unfortunately, that is not the case in this battle. This battle is a case of hopeless odds. 


	2. Gaining Entry

I realized that I forgot to say that I do not own Zoids, and if I did, then the world would most likely be under my control. Too bad for me. If I do use official characters, they are the property of Grimcon Productions, or whoever creates the Zoids anime.

this is the actually the first three chapters melded into one super chapter. That I happen to like better. So. There ya go. Hopefully this inspires more people to review. And if it doesn't, maybe me attacking them with my personal shadow fox will.

**Chapter 2:** _Entry_

"You are the elite. You come from varied backgrounds: some of you from the two nations, some of you used to be on the ZBC teams, and others of you were....." The sergeant's eyes narrowed as his voice dropped to a low growl. "Mercenaries."

Everyone's eyes traveled to the small group of people in one of the room's corners, where the ex-mercenaries sat at their desks. If you couldn't guess, mercenaries were not very popular. Off the military base, several had been attacked with varying degrees of success. Four broken noses, nine broken ribs, two concussions, and uncountable bruises, black eyes, cuts, and scratches. None of which belonged to the mercenaries, of course. Most had been raised on the streets and knew hand-to-hand combat like the back of their hand—or at least as well as their Zoids.

"Even so," the sergeant continued, "many of you will not make it into this division." As he said this, his eyes flicked back to the mercenaries for a second before continuing their scanning of the class. "Simulations will be numerous, as will physical and mental testing. You screw up more than never, and you're probably gonna be off the base within the hour. Remember that in your next exercise. Which starts now."

Every one in the classroom got up and left. The true military types walked out in a semi-attention state, the ZBC pilots more casually.

"You screw up more than once, maggots, and you's gonna be packin' and off the base before dusk! Remember that, and on that happy note, get to your next exercise, worms!" one man—a mercenary—commented, in a voice that was uncannily like the sergeants. The rest of the mercenaries chuckled quietly, and even some of the Officials (nickname for normal ZBC pilots) grinned.

The mercenary that made the comment went with his assigned strike group to the Centrifuge, and waited his turn.

The mercenary was average sized, and went by the name of Bek. He wore a t-shirt and long cargo pants and had sandy blond hair. He sat slouched down in a chair by the door with his hands in his pockets and looked intently at a spot on the floor about a foot in front of him.

One of the Officials came up and sat beside him. He was tall, dark hair, dressed in a jumpsuit type thing, and looked vaguely Hispanic. "Hey, merc. Nice impression of SeÅˆor Drill Sergeant Wannabe you did back there. What's your name?"

"Bek," he responded.

"Bek..... what?"

"Just Bek."

"No last name?"

"Not one I would really care to share."

"All right, I can understand that. Me llamo Cliff. So, what brings you to the Guardian Force to try to join this 'elite division.' Or is that something else you wouldn't really care to share."

Bek grinned faintly. "Yeah, something like that."

Cliff looked at him for a moment, waiting, but Bek didn't add anything. Then he said, "You don't talk very much do you?"

The grin on Bek's face grew. "I can. Right now I figure that if I open my mouth too much, I might get into trouble with Senor (Spanish word for Mr., but I don't really know how to make the symbolly thing) Drill Sergeant Wannabe."

Cliff laughed at that. "You're probably right. I think I'll try out that strategy for myself."

And so, they quietly waited their turn. Cliff was called out before Bek, and came out looking very dazed. He almost didn't seem to notice Bek as he observed Cliff.

"Good luck man." He started talking to Bek: "You're gonna need it. Those nuts are insane! They need to be stopped!"

Bek was called in two minutes later and was strapped to the chair by two technicians.

"Okay, we are going to see how you handle G-Forces. We will start out with the gees that you would experience in a Zoid equivalent to a Command Wolf or Shield Liger. Then, we will increase the gees until you experience what it would be like launching into space. Just for good measure." _And our amusement_, thought the head tech., trying not to smile too much.

"Cool beans," Bek replied. "Well, if you are done explaining, then what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road, eh?"

The technicians grinned. "Okay. Good luck." They then retreated into their monitoring station, almost bursting with laughter.

_Let's see if we can wipe those dang smirks off their faces_, thought Bek idly.

A voice rose, unbidden, from the depths of Bek's mind, slightly deeper, harsher, seemingly more familiar to the darkness of society: _Yes. Let's._

Almost by instinct, Bek wrestled it back into its mental cage. _Stay. Leave me alone. Now is not the best time for you_.

The chair began spinning at that point, and Bek put his hands behind his head, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position. As the technicians slowly increased the gees to levels comparative to a Zoid undergoing violent combat/evasion maneuvers, they noted how relaxed the man was.

"Heart rate has increased by two beats per minute. No other signs of stress."

"Really?" _hmmm..._, thought the tech that was in charge. _That's interesting._ "Increase gee-forces. Let's try two gees."

Most pilots began to get a little dizzy, and started to see spots at this point.

Bek, on the other hand just started to breathe a little harder.

_This man could just be another Brad Hunter..._ "Increase gee-forces to four gees."

"Are you sure sir? We would be skipping two phases of testing."

"I am very sure, thank you. We're just testing his limits, that's all."

"If you say so, sir."

_Wow,_ Bek thought, _these guys seem to be giving me quite the ride. I haven't felt like this in quite a few years—what a rush!_ He looked up, grinning, at the camera set into a bar on the chair and waved. "Hey, guys! Do ya think that this thing could go any faster?"

In the control center, everyone's mouths seemed to be broken, with how far they were hanging open. The head tech slowly recovered, and said, "Well... Why not? Keep slowly increasing gee-forces, Anderson."

"Uuuuhhh....... Right, sir."

As they kept increasing the amount of gee-forces on Bek, they became more and more amazed.

"You're sure that all recording devices are working?"

"Yes sir, just checked them moments ago."

"This is ridiculous," the head tech muttered to himself. _No one should be able to endure this many gees. What IS this guy?_

Now Beck was really feeling the pressure on his chest. _Whatever this elephant on my chest has been eating, it really needs to stop_, he thought to himself. Blood was beginning to pool in his arms and legs, and his vision was beginning to go black.

"Okay...guys...you can...stop...the ride...now," Beck barely managed to get out.

"Sir, his vital signs are in the red now."

"Okay, lets shut it down people." _Holy crap. This guy is amazing. He passed this test with more than flying colors. I can't imagine how he pilots._

Cliff was waiting for him, as Bek, weaving slightly, came out of the Centrifuge.

"Wow. Do you think they'll do that again?" Bek looked slightly queasy as he asked this. ""Cause that was totally..."

"Scary as hell?" supplied Cliff as Bek trailed off.

"NO WAY! IT WAS AWESOME! DO IT AGAIN, DO IT AGAIN!" shouted Bek, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Several pilots that were waiting their turn seemed to relax, while their fellows that had gone through the torture of the Centrifuge gave Bek very odd looks, including Cliff.

"What the HELL is wrong with you?!" shouted Cliff, who had no clue why _anyone_ would think about thinking that was fun.

"Well...probably a lot," said Bek, smiling. He was only half kidding though.

All of the pilot candidates were given bunks at the military base. Most that weren't still unconscious from the Centrifuge fell asleep quickly and slept deeply. Others slept as if they were still unconscious from the Centrifuge, though they had managed to stay conscious. A third group had been asleep since that afternoon. Since the Centrifuge, in other words.

One on the other hand didn't fall asleep that easily. And when he did, his rest was far from peaceful. In fact, it was rather nightmarish.

_Blood. Blood everywhere. The coppery scent fills the air. _

_A man stands in a field of bodies._

_Wait. The figure is too small to be a man. And the katana that released the blood is almost as long as the figure itself. It is a boy then. Blood yet drips from the blade. The boy looks dispassionately at his handiwork._

_The dreamer sees from the boy's perspective. He looks around, not sure why he does not move on. His gaze finally settles on a certain figure. Through the haze of the dream, he realizes that he meant to save this person._

"_Bek... help... me..." The figure collapses, lifeless, among the other bodies._

_The boy looks on, wondering why he cannot feel anything for his failure. Or much of anything else._

__

In his bunk, Bek twists and thrashes.

Bek awoke the next morning with no recollection of what had happened in his dreams the previous night. All he remembered was that they were disturbing, and that he had found them unpleasant. He also knew that because of them he got little good sleep.

"Stupid little...monkey fraggin'... why is it always...," Bek grumbled as he got ready for the day.

The voice rose yet again: _You_ _know why._

He went to the cafeteria after getting dressed, and got himself a cup of what was supposed to be coffee. He had never experienced it before, as he had only arrived yesterday.

"Hey! Crazy joyride kid! C'mere!" called Cliff

Bek walked to the table where Cliff and several others were sitting. He sat down and took an experimental drink of the 'coffee.' As soon as it met his tongue, it was projected all across the table. A little sheepishly, he asked "Okay, who put used oil in the coffee dispenser."

"Huh. And right before the Centrifuge yesterday, you couldn't get more than five words out of the kid. Now here he is, making sarcastic comments like a whole new person. Should we start calling you Crazy-Bi-Polar-Joyride-Kid?"

"Or Bek, whatever you like." Bek absently took another sip of the "coffee" and his eyes widened. Another round went spraying over everyone else. He grabbed Cliff's napkin a split second before Cliff's hand would have grabbed it, and proceeded to scour his tongue with it. After several seconds of this, he realized that everyone was staring at him. He gently refolded the napkin and put it back where it had been.

"Eh. Sorry 'bout that."

The others at the table burst out laughing.

"Shaddup. Whoever sabotaged the coffee is gonna get riddled with holes from a Laser Vulcan Gun as soon as I get into the unit."

"Uh huh, yep, sure kid. Anyway, speaking of getting into the unit, I think we might actually get to pilot today."

Bek grunted. "In a simulator, maybe. I doubt that they are going to trust all of us with brand new Shadow Foxes. The mercenaries at least."

"True. But I hear that the GF has more Foxes than capable pilots."

Bek gazed steadily at Cliff, then said, "From now on, you shall be known as 'King of Rumors.' And speaking of names, why don't we introduce ourselves."

Regis was an Official, with matt black hair and icy blue eyes. (You guys get to imagine what he is wearing, ya lazy bums! :P ill tell you that it isn't excessively punk, insane, or things like that.) He had been on a high ranked class B team before the war demanded putting a stop to battles. In contrast to his eyes, his demeanor and attitude were warm and friendly.

Talia was a fairly attractive redhead with green eyes. She looked friendly, though not quite as much as Regis. She was an actual soldier, though she didn't share the same disgust in mercenaries as most of the rest of her soldier brethren.

Rama was a brown haired, freckled young man, or kid might have fit better. He had one of those innocent expressions that youth seemed to have. It was kind of hard to believe that he had been on an A ranked team, and had been one of the best on it.

The group of new acquaintances talked for the rest of the time they had available. Their next battery of tests began at five.

"Alright, guys. Shall we proceed to the 'Facility?'" asked Rama fifteen minutes before the test commenced, showing how academics-conscious his parents had been with the boy.

The rest of the group moaned in dismay, but got up anyway and left the cafeteria, making their way across the base to the Special Operations building. They entered the building and—

"I can't BELIEVE this!" cried Cliff as he smacked Rama in the back of the head. "THERE'S NO ONE ELSE HERE!!"

"Hey, at least we get to pick where we sit," commented Bek.

"Humph. I'd rather not have gotten here so early, and still be drinking some coffee."

"Right on brother," came a voice from the shadows of the room. "Though the... excuse they have here hardly counts as coffee."

Everyone else jumped at the sound of the voice.

"W-w-who _are_ you?" stammered Rama, managing to recover faster than any of the others.

"If any of you make it to this unit, I'll be your commanding officer." And out from the shadows stepped Brad Hunter.

Heh heh heh. So, how do you guys like that? Review. I really would rather not get off my lazy behind to go hunt you down for not doing so.


	3. Personality Test

"Under the English legal system you are innocent until you are shown to be Irish."  
  
"The Scottish verdict 'not proven' means 'guilty, but don't do it again.'"

"My soul is my own business." –Istian Goss, Dune: The Battle of Corrin

No one noticed as Bek began to asses Brad.

Brad did not seem to notice, though his gaze seemed to linger on Bek more than the others.

"B-B-Brad H-H-Hunter?!" stuttered Rama, who seemed to be on the verge of having a stroke.

"That'd be me."

"Were you here this ENTIRE TIME?!" shouted Cliff. Cliff was the... _outspoken_ member of the small group of comrades.

"I suppose I have. Though I did watch you guys in the cafeteria. Getting some impressions of candidates being their wonderful natural selves. An unofficial test, if you will."

"Wonderful. Now we're being monitored when we _aren't_ aware of it as well as when we are," commented Talia dryly.

"Ya know, I always did hate tests," commented Brad. "But... I ain't taking them am I?" he said with an evil grin.

Cliff's eye twitched slightly. "Twisted," he said finally.

"Nah." Brad's expression hardened and his eyes focused on a point beyond the friends. "Others have already claimed that position."

At this, the Cliff, Rama, and even Talia shifted slightly in sudden discomfort. Bek gave an almost imperceptible nod. Almost a salute.

Brad made his way back to his seat in the shadows, signifying that the conversation was done. The others slowly made their way to desks.

'_Drone, drone, drone_. _Blah, Blah, Blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Get on with it._' Bek glanced at the wall, so bored that his brain was beginning to feel numb. Unfortunately, the wall didn't have any useful suggestions.

'_Yeah, I know how to work one of these crazy things, okay? Let's DO something, how 'bout?'_

"Mr. Ross. Would you be so kind as to tell me how you would use the Strike Laser Claw function?"

Bek slowly drew his gaze away from the wall, to the "Drill Sergeant Wannabe."

"Well," he said matter of factly, "the left thumb button on the Fox's controls should do the trick quite nicely. Or, you could manually shunt some core energy into the SLC, but that would take _at least_ thirty seconds. Which could very well get you killed. Not to mention back fire. Which is _dangerously _cheesy."

All of a sudden, there was a dull _thud_ and Bek winced.

"Sorry—my bad. It would not be... _advisable_, sir."

The Sergeant glared at Bek, as if his fondest hopes had just been crushed. "Very... good, Mr. Ross. So you have been paying attention," managed the Sergeant through gritted teeth.

Though Bek could think of several fairly nice comebacks, he really didn't feel that it would be worth the trouble. Especially since Talia had just given him a rather painful reminder that she was behind him and the chairs had large holes in the back. Instead, he went back to staring at the wall.

"All right. Now, for the fun part. You recruits get to participate in a simulation. Here, we will find out how many of you 'mech monkeys can actually pilot a Zoid.

The goal of this sim, is to, well, destroy the enemy. This is a full scale battle. You will participate in lances, which, as per Commander Hunter's instructions, will be made up of whom you choose. Any questions?"

Regis raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"We will be piloting Shadow Foxes, correct?"

"Of course."

Regis nodded at this.

"Any more questions? Good. Dismissed. Proceed to the sim-room."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Everything looks good. Black One, headin' out."

"Black Two, everything is green. Prepped for departure."

"Black Three, same here."

Bek took one last look at the readouts, then announced his readiness. "Black Four, let's do it."

_Yes, let's! Is it time yet?!_

_No. Not quite. Be patient. I'll let you know, don't worry._

_Aaagghh. Hurry up. It's more cramped in here than you realize._

_I'll bet._

"Black Four, you want to join your lance some time today?" came the voice of the Sergeant.

"Uuuh... Roger that, control. Sorry 'bout that. Be right with ya."

"Geez Bek, get with the program," came Cliff's voice teasingly.

"Black Two, shut up and stay in formation."

"Yessir—er—ma'am. I mean, Black One."

Talia's voice, that of Black One came over the com, "Guys, you have to remember to call each other by call signs. It can cause huge trouble if you don't during an operation. As in, screwing the entire thing up. Copy?"

A chorus of "Roger that"'s acknowledged.

Even though they got to choose their own lances, the Sergeant chose designations. Soldiers were typically higher in the rank chart, with mercenaries at the bottom. Typical prejudice. Alas. Them's the breaks.

"OK, Lance One, head to the following location, and prepare to ambush the enemy supply train. Lance Two, head to this location, and do the same thing. Lance Three, you're to wait at the base as reinforcements. Questions?"

The lance leaders sent a general negative back.

"OK, get to it."

"Yay. The fun job," Cliff said, just about as sarcastically as he could.

"Hey, hotshots." Bek's voice came as a bit of a surprise to everyone. "Why don't you start sending us your sensor data?"

A low chuckle sounded from the speakers. "Moron," came one pilot's voice.

"That would give away our position. And in case you forgot, this is an _ambush_. The goal is not to give the enemy any clues about where you are."

"Naw. Ya think?" said Bek sarcastically. "Turn on your Sound Baffle Systems, intelligent ones. Then you can coordinate your ambush, so none of you does anything too stupid. Not to mention send us that sensor data I was talking about."

A short pause.

"Oh. _Thank_ you, Black Four. And here's your sensor data."

"You guys remember to turn on your Optical Stealth Camouflage and Anti-Detection Scrubbers?"

Another pause.

"_Thank you, Black Four. I think we can handle it._" You could almost hear his teeth gritted.

"No problem. Any time guys."

"Black Four, I think that's enough," came the Sergeant's voice.

"Roger, Control."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"First thing I do," said Cliff, "when I get maintenance's permission, is to put much more comfortable seats in my Fox. Seriously. How long have we sat here. Thirty minutes—an hour? In a SIMULATOR! Who organized THIS BRILLIANT exercise."

"Black Two. For the millionth time..."

"Yes ma'am. Just tryin' to pass the time ma'am."

"Pass the time more quietly, would you?"

"Roger that."

The exercise had continued this way for about a half-hour. Cliff is just one of those people that had to be doing something.

"I mean, it's just that there are no games in the computer system here. That's another thing that I'll need to add to my Fox."

A sigh. "BLACK Two."

"Sorry ma'am."

"Heads up, Black Lance. Shadow Squadron. Prep for ambush," came the designated squadron leader's voice.

On the sensor board, Black Lance, which consisted of Talia, Cliff, Regis, and Bek watched several Gustavs crawl into the canyon. Gold Lance, the head-honcho lance, was camouflaged in the far mouth of the ravine. Grey Lance, where Rama had gotten stuck, was evenly spread across the two sides of the canyon.

The enemy force appeared to consist of armed Gustavs, each pulling two covered trailers, about thirty-six Di-Mantis, and—

"Holy..."

"Hold positions. It's only one Elephander."

"That Elephander is capable of taking on two of us at once, and winning."

"Don't panic. There's eight of us, remember. OK. We wait until the Elephander is just beyond us, then we concentrate our fire on it. Once it's CSF'd, or dead, take out the Di-Mantis, then disable the Gustavs. Do NOT destroy the cargo. Copy?"

Gold and Grey Lances acknowledged.

"All right. Maintain comm. silence for the time being."

The Backdraft convoy moved slowly up the canyon, making sure that it's most important escort could keep up. The Elephander's footsteps shook the entire canyon as it stalked past, causing miniature avalanches.

A subtle, and totally accidental, method of detecting stealthed or camouflaged Zoids. Gotta give those programmers credit. They pay attention to detail.

One such avalanche rolled down a narrow wash in the canyon wall, hit a small ledge, and—

fell right onto a camouflaged Shadow Fox.

The Backdraftian Zoids suddenly halted, sensing that something was amiss. The Elephander slowly swung its head back and forth, looking for the cause of its upset.

Seeing nothing, it took another step, and—

it happened again. Unfortunately, this time The Elephander caught sight of the rocks, as they bounced off a Shadow Fox's Laser Vulcan Gun.

K, I do intend to add more to this chapter. For now, review. 


End file.
